intheruins: (Default)
[personal profile] intheruins
The first couple of days, there's not much Serena can do. She's lost a lot of blood and there's a lot more to healing from a caesarean than there is a natural delivery, too. 

It's almost maddening. She can't even nurse her son. Every so often they wheel her into a room with strange machines and let her hold him. He's doing well, she's told again and again, and she tells them that he's a survivor. That it's in his blood. 

The nurses don't know what to do with her stoicism and it's only at night when they're off doing whatever it is they do when she's supposed to be sleeping that she lets herself cry, careful and silent. She doesn't know how to live without Pemberton. She doesn't know how to be a mother without a father. 

If she were a better person, she'd think of Rachel with sympathy but instead, she just feels scorn. 

At least she'd had the Widow Jenkins. 

Serena and her child have no one.

After her blood levels lift back to normal, the doctors encourage her to move around. She's never been one to stay in bed all day and so she does, as much as it hurts. Since they took the IVs out, she hasn't been taking much for pain. They don't stick around to see if she swallows the pills and why should they? 

She wanders about the maternity ward in a robe that's too big and slippers that are cheap and flimsy, watching as happy mothers are pushed around in wheelchairs, carrying their babies. They smile at her and she forces a smile back but the jealousy still bites. If she were back in North Carolina, if she had any control at all, no one would stand between her and her son.

Serena doesn't ask permission when she heads to another floor. There's the promise of a cafeteria and she hopes it has more to offer than the tasteless mush that is brought to her bedside. She's reading a map and turning to follow it when she suddenly feels weak, reaching out for a wall before she has a chance to fall.

[Dated May 11th.]

Date: 2017-05-09 02:35 pm (UTC)
cpthawk: (intent)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
It's a relatively quiet day at the hospital, which Hawkeye is both grateful for and bored by. Between the hospital and the classes at night at Barton Medical, he's beginning to remember what it's like to be tired all the time. The first few weeks in Darrow had been like a holiday, sleeping in till late morning, no choppers, no announcements, no wounded. No responsibilities. Darrow General is nothing like the 4077th had been, so he has that perspective, at least. Nothing is ever going to be as bone-draining exhausting as the war had been, but he is starting to mainline coffee.

In Korea it had been gin. He'd always made sure he was fit to be in surgery (with one, awful exception), but here things aren't quite the same. He still needs something to get him through the long days and long nights, so coffee it is.

He has a paper cup of it in his hand as he walks down the hall, on his way to try and find a sandwich at one of the vending machines. They have him back in residency, which is a blow to his ego, but necessary. He's sixty-five years behind and his ego can be as large as it likes, he still has enough presence of mind to know he's not able to just walk back into being Chief of Surgery. Necessary, but teeth-grinding all the same.

He sees a woman reach for a wall and Hawkeye puts the coffee on a table nearby and goes to her side immediately, a supporting hand on her shoulder. As soon as he's close enough he sees Aurora's face and he frowns. "Aurora?" He hadn't even known she was in hospital. He saw her not long ago and she'd been just fine, but he knows that's not necessarily any kind of indication.

Date: 2017-05-13 04:43 am (UTC)
cpthawk: (hawk)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
She shrugs him off and Hawkeye backs away a little, giving her space. It's clear enough from the way she reacts to him that this isn't Aurora, even if the resemblance is more than striking. She doesn't look like she should be out of bed, and Hawkeye glances down to her hospital wristband, checking for her ward number.

"So have you, looks like," he muses. She's supposed to be in the maternity ward, so there's no reason for her to be up here except perhaps boredom. Hawkeye knows better than anyone how time can stretch in this place, but she looks like a soft breeze would blow her over right now.

"I think we should get you back to bed." He doesn't move to touch her again, expecting that she'll shove him off again, but he does stand close by in case she falls.

Date: 2017-05-14 10:09 am (UTC)
cpthawk: (chinhand)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
He laughs at that, nodding in agreement. Hospital food is about as good as army food, and he's glad at least that he's not the one who has to eat it. The sandwiches in the vending machine leave a lot to be desired, but at least they're not just questionable mush.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells him he has a bit more time to spare, and he should probably make sure she makes it to the cafeteria and back again. Maybe it's because of the face she shares, but he's more inclined to tell himself it's his duty of care as a doctor.

"I can't promise the cafeteria is much better," he admits, but he does change direction. "I was heading there myself," he says, and maybe it's half a lie but it doesn't hurt anybody. "I'd ask if you mind the company, but well, doctor's orders."

He gives her a wry smile. If she definitely wants him to leave he will, but not before asking a nurse to keep an eye on her.

Date: 2017-05-15 12:53 pm (UTC)
cpthawk: (french girl)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
She doesn't look all that much like she wants to agree, but she also seems to realise that he has the ability to steer her straight back into bed if he wanted to. He's not above using that to his advantage, so he keeps smiling even if she doesn't return it, leading her to the cafeteria.

"It'll take that and a small bribe," he jokes, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. "A hundred dollars in small bills, unmarked and left near reception." A hundred dollars isn't all that much money these days, he knows. Same as how a cup of coffee is suddenly practically worth its weight in gold, apparently. He's still getting used to the inflation, still having to refrain from shouting objection whenever the girl at the coffee shop he likes hands him his bill.

The cafeteria is relatively quiet once they arrive, just a few visitors picking listlessly at terrible hospital food. Eating it nearly always makes him think of Igor, of having some indistinguishable mush slopped onto his plate in the mess tent. He avoids it wherever possible, but he's not about to leave her on her own, either.

It's a fifty-fifty toss up whether she's better off with the low blood sugar or risking the questionable chicken and rice on offer. "This way to your table, madame," he says as they enter, cocking his arm as though he's holding a napkin and gesturing the way to a table with the other. "May I suggest the bouillabaisse? Perhaps a glass of Dom Pérignon?" He slicks on an over the top French accent as he guides her to a seat.

Date: 2017-05-16 02:07 pm (UTC)
cpthawk: (chinhand)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
Hawkeye flirts almost the way he breathes, often unconsciously. For the most part he doesn't mean anything by it, especially now. She's a patient and for all that he ignores authority most of the time, he does know where to draw the line. He'll make sure she eats something, gets back to her room okay, and then he'll leave her in peace.

He is, however, determined to at least crack a smile out of her before he leaves her.

"No wine," he says regretfully, shaking his head. It's a hospital, not a bar, and the best she can hope for is some juice. He's pretty sure there's a vending machine with soda in it somewhere down the hall, but that's no good for her either. "I don't know if the big red cross out the front tipped you off or not, but this is a hospital."

Hawkeye waits for her to sit before he slides into the seat across from her, leaning forward on his elbows to watch her. She looks so much like Aurora it's unsettling. The major difference, he notes, is in the way she looks at him, and that's interesting for several reasons. He's used to the way Aurora looks at him, that hint of a smile, the fondness in her eyes. He's still learning his way around her, too, but he's more likely to find humour or curiosity in her eyes than the woman in front of him. She's looking at him with something approaching derision or impatience, which is so different it amuses him a little.

Date: 2017-05-17 02:46 pm (UTC)
cpthawk: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
Technology has changed since Hawkeye was last in a proper hospital. They're a whole lot more impressive than they were, bigger, too. But the general idea is the same. A MASH had been something entirely different to get used to, though. Different kinds of people, different equipment, different patients. Certainly different sicknesses, different wounds to treat.

But a hospital is still a hospital, and maybe most people don't like them, but Hawkeye feels at home here, as much as he had in Boston.

He'd been unsure at first if this is what he should be doing, getting straight back on the horse after Korea, so to speak. He'd thought maybe he needed to get away from the blood for a while, but it turned out to be the opposite. This is where he's supposed to be.

"The jello here is to die for," he says, giving her a wry smile. It's probably crappy, but she's got to eat something. Eating jello as an adult doesn't really seem respectable at any other time though, so he's of the opinion that she should live it up while she can.

Date: 2017-05-19 08:29 am (UTC)
cpthawk: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
She doesn't laugh at that joke either, and Hawkeye is just about ready to give up. Not even a smile or a snigger, that's what he's working with here. He'd take it personally, only he knows it can't possibly be his fault. There have been times before in post op where he's wondered if he should try and take a different approach, but it's like cutting against the grain.

For better or worse, this is who he is and he's still a damn fine doctor even so. Maybe because of. Jury's still out on that one.

Hawkeye frowns, knowing for a fact that this hospital has some kind of fixation on green jello. It's all she's going to find, which is understandably frustrating. Green is just about his least favourite colour, too, though he guesses their reasoning is different.

"It's like St Patrick's Day all year 'round in this place," he tells her, shaking his head. "Close your eyes and it'll all taste about the same, anyway."

Date: 2017-05-20 07:03 am (UTC)
cpthawk: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
"Wait here," he tells her, then gets up from the table. Leaving her for the moment, he manages to rummage up a simple sandwich and a cup of jello, green though it is. He spends a brief moment trying to chat up a nurse into getting him another flavour, but as suspected, there's nothing else on hand. He's beginning to think it's some kind of cosmic joke, some last slap in the face from the war, but he shakes it off.

When he finds her again, he deposits his findings on the table in front of her, gesturing for her to eat. She needs to get her strength up, that much is obvious. He's not about to leave her in peace until he can be sure she can make it back to her room again without collapsing in the hall.

"Dr Pierce," he tells her when he sits down again, leaning back in the chair. The white coat is a pretty good giveaway, but he supposes she has a point. "My friends call me Hawkeye."

Date: 2017-05-21 07:52 am (UTC)
cpthawk: (smile)
From: [personal profile] cpthawk
She doesn't look particularly enthusiastic about the food, but that's to be expected. He snags his own cup of jello, rips open the top and plunges the little plastic spoon in to take a bite. It's green and it shouldn't taste green really, but it does. Next week, he'll make it his mission to try and get some other flavours in here, no matter what it takes.

He watches her eat for a moment, makes sure she's eating properly and not just making some show of it. The hospital is a whole lot different than the 4077th had been, but some things are always the same. He still watches over his own patients like a hawk, if the pun will be forgiven, even when there's teams of doctors to assist, now. Serena's not his patient, but he still intends to make sure she's fine before he leaves.

He tells himself it's because he's a doctor and it's his job, but there is something to be said about the fact that she has Aurora's face, maybe.

"What's the baby's name?" he asks, giving her a warm smile. She's a little standoffish, but in his experience there's no quicker way to put a smile on the face of a mother than to talk about her child.

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Serena Pemberton

February 2018

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